Everytime I went to my mothers, I would wander around aimlessly searching for nests. My stepfather would call me to report bunny digging activity, nests that had been dug, but just waited for the evidence of babies by seeing the fur. Finally after keeping an eye on a hole that had been dug, there was babies!! It was about a month later, 1 day before my Monty was born. So once again I had babies to love and care for until I was able to bring Monty home. I had five this time.
I remember going to get them, I always waited until they were about 7 days old, in between that time worrying something would get them. My stepfather told me a story of how one day he watched a cat at his boat club out in the grass, come back and forth to a nest several times as it plucked each baby bunny out one by one and carried them to the woods nearby. But these ones I went for a little earlier because my stepdad had placed sticks over the nest to see if momma was returning because he hadnt noticed her coming back.(He kept a good eye on them for me)
One baby had a tick on its ear, how terrible I thought that they had to grow up with these nasty parasites, unlike my Buddy who has no idea what would await her in the wild.
This time, I followed the rehabbers advice religiously, feeding them every 2 1/2-3 hours, mixing the formula 2 parts powder to one part water instead of what is written on the can, giving a 1/4 teaspoon of Benebac to each one everyday.
As the first week went by, no babies dying overnight. The second week and third week, no messy bottoms!! Once they reached 5 weeks old I knew they would all be ok. I had finally been successful!!
These babies were a bit more wild at an early age. One was a terrible pistol, the runt, my son called him Spyro. He didnt like anyone!!
One I called Buddy Bear Jr, for he was light colored like my Buddy. He was a sweetie, but not quite as sweet as Buddy. There was Cody, who was a timid little fellow, but enjoyed attention.
One the kids called one Sam, and the other wasnt named. I always enjoyed sitting in the hallway with them, they would hop all over me, loved to sit on my back and nibble my hair. One thought he was a tough boy, if you wiggled your fingers at him on the floor and made a scratching sound, he would rear up on his little back legs and bat at you with his front feet. It was so cute for such a little guy thinking he was bad.
I had planned on letting them go at 7 weeks old, as they were getting restless and I wanted them to have time to be established before possible early cold weather set in. I pretty much knew it would be the last of my babies until next year, I tried to savor every last second I had with them.
Soon, the day came I had planned on, but weather was bad, the next day Cindy had plans, and she always wanted to be there when I let them go so she could see them, so actually they were about 7 1/2 weeks old by the time we finally set off to let them free.
